House Calls
by RebelWriter6561
Summary: Conrad hated when Worth came over. But what starts as an annoyance may turn into something else. ConWorth
1. Chapter 1

~*~This is a fic I started celebration of being halfway done with finals and _kicking its ass, thank you very much!_ But yeah, lots o' thanks to you guys who left comments wishing me luck. _OoG_ will be updated very soon. Soon as finals are done, promise.  
>Um, this whole story will be revolving around the "what would happen" situation of Worth coming over to Conrad's apartment. There will be awkward!Conrad, snarky!Worth, and maybe some smut if I could ever be able to write it. TruFact, can't write smut. I try, I really do. Maybe I'll succeed with this.<br>Musical Muse: My freakin-awesome HiNaBN playlist! "Simple Design" by Breaking Benjamin is like the perfect ConWorth song.  
>Warnings: Whole-lotta F-bombs, eventual ConWorth, rating may or may not change as a result.<br>Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own any of the characters.

~*~ House Calls ~*~

Conrad _hated_ when Worth came over.

He hated having that disgusting man infiltrate his personal space, the one place where he used to feel actually comfortable. Well, it used to be his comforting safe home, until a purple bat came in and turned his life upside down. Just when he had gotten used to being a vampire, Veser lodged himself on his couch and, for all intents and purposes, made it his primary living location. After futile attempts to get him to leave, or at least move to the spare room, Conrad accepted the fact that he was to be host to a teenage half-breed for the foreseeable future.

And just when he _finally _accepted that little annoying fact, Worth started dropping by. Normally Conrad traversed the difficult journey through the city to the fake doctor's office himself, dodging drug dealers and hookers along the way. Worth would usually have his blood ready, sitting on that rickety desk of his, with Worth lounging in his chair with that shit-eating grin of his. He would throw insults at Conrad as the vampire carefully edged around used needles and the occasional cockroach on the floor to retrieve his bags of sustenance. Usually Worth would take a few jabs at his masculinity, and how he was the worst vampire to walk the earth. Conrad couldn't stop himself from rising to the bait, and the minutes stretched out as Conrad tried in vain to find a sore spot in Worth's defensive hide that he could exploit. Worth always had the upper hand in the arguments, and Conrad desperately wanted a way to –not hurt, but to sting his pride a bit. But Worth didn't seem to have any weaknesses, except for Hanna, and Conrad wasn't quite ready to go there. So he always left defeated.

On the way-too frequent occasions that Hanna himself showed up at his door, looking for Veser to help him clean out a pack of pixies –"and you should come too Connie pixies don't like vampires you know" –and he was dragged into the city's underbelly again, he usually swung by Worth's to get some blood, even if it screwed up the usual schedule. Worth always seemed to always have a bag or two on hand. And they were good for backup, in case Conrad couldn't make it to Worth's.

Those breaks from the routine led to the first visit Worth granted him. Conrad had been working straight for several nights, occasionally lasting into late morning, trying to complete several commissions. He needed the money desperately, because he now had to cater to a ravenous teenager who had a penchant for sushi, plus he bought healthy food to try to convince Hanna to take. The zombie always took them, even though Hanna put up a fuss like a two year old. The few paychecks Conrad was able to cash became precious sources of sanity, because he _really_ hated thinking about how he was going to get money any other way. Casimiro and Finas had to get their money somehow…he just didn't want to think about how.

Luckily, Worth hadn't demanded any sort of payment from him yet, but the way his sharp eyes stared at him, while the mouth beneath shot out insult after insult had him wondering if there wouldn't be some sort of compensation required after all. That was something he hated thinking about more than any other concept.

So Conrad had fallen behind in his blood supply, Hanna hadn't stopped by with more blood –or if he had, Conrad had missed him and Veser was hiding the blood –and by the time he finally finished the last commission of the group, it was mid-day, and he was starving. Starving like he had never felt before, not even during those first few days when he couldn't bring himself to take blood even from the baggies. There was actually a distinct probability that he would attack a human if he found one.

Fortunately, Veser was out of the apartment. Conrad thought about calling him to ask him to drop by Worth's, but then remembered that the stupid little kid didn't carry a cell phone, unlike every other person over the age of ten. Veser actually had a legitimate reason for not carrying one ("They're like, really freaking expensive, ya know! And 'sides, I always loose them or they get broke or something." "Like if you jump in the river?" "…that only happened once. You'd jump too if you had a fire rat after you!"). But that didn't help the situation at all.

He thought of calling Hanna and the zombie's apartment, but Hanna had to work too, and the zombie didn't like going out during the day. Conrad really couldn't blame him.

So it looked like he was stuck indoors for the next few hours, as hungry as he had ever been. Awesome. Sounded like a whole load of fun.

'At least,' he thought with a yawn, 'I'll be able to sleep through the worst of it.' It was past ten in the morning –the latest he had stayed awake since his turning. He was exhausted. Conrad stumbled towards his bedroom, trying not to think about the trip would have to take when night fell. He might actually be tempted to take a bite from some diseased drug-filled neck. Or from a drug-dealer or hooker.

Conrad reached the doorway of his room, momentarily paused, then started harshly when he realized _just what exactly_ was on his bed.

He almost prayed that it was just a dead body. It sure looked like one, the way the form was slumped face-down on the bed, like it was a puppet whose strings had been cut. But no, he could detect the heartbeat –pounding like a bass drum in his temples –and there were wispy-sounding breathes that sounded like little snores. Veser sometimes sounded like that when he slept.

But it was not Veser who was passed out on his bed. Oh no, it was much worse.

"What The FUCK Are You DOING?" Conrad _roared_ as he stormed forward to haul Worth's recumbent form off his sheets. He had been lying there in his disgusting coat with his shoes still on like he owned the place. Conrad didn't know what was more horrifying: Worth's dirty body on his sheets, the fact that apparently he could break into Conrad's apartment with ease, or that there was a living breathing human in his room when he was fucking starving.

Thankfully for Conrad, Worth didn't seem as awake and aware as he usually was. He came awake with a sharp snort and a half-hearted flail, but they lacked their usual power. It would occur to Conrad later that of course Worth was tired; he was as nocturnal as a vampire. "Wha tha fuck fag…" Worth tiredly growled out, before yawning _right in Conrad's face_.

That was the final straw for Conrad. He was tired, frustrated after the long night, and still _really fucking hungry_ and Worth once again was resembling food in his mind. Worth had to leave. Right. The Fuck. Now.

Holding his breath –stupidly not realizing he didn't need the air –after the nasty blast from Worth's yawn, he pulled Worth's half-struggling form down the hall by his arm to the door. "Get the fuck _out of here!_" Conrad shouted as he yanked the door open and flung Worth in the hall. "And don't you _ever_ come back!" he screamed out at Worth as he slammed the door. He locked it with every lock he possessed (the handle, the deadbolt, and the chain he had added after Adelaide's break-in) then backed away from the door. Awkwardly he stood there, just listening. He heard Worth grumble, several thuds, then nothing. Apparently Worth was too tired to argue, or complain, or do anything to try to guilt Conrad into letting him in. As if Conrad would _ever_ give in.

Breathing out his sigh of relief, Conrad turned his back to the door and groaned in horror. He would need to wash his sheets –nay, bleach the ever-loving fuck out of them –and his floors, and Febreeze the hell out of the air, and…do lots of other cleaning stuff that he was really too tired to attempt. Getting Worth out of his apartment, and fighting off the urge to bite him, had drained him. He wanted food, but since the last possibility of that had been flung out his door, that wasn't going to happen today. So, sleep was the next best option.

Conrad shuffled to his room and looked over the damage. His covers were a bit rumpled, but there didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with them…–hang on. There was a dark splotch on the coverlet. What was that?

Cautiously Conrad stepped forward and scrutinized what Worth had left. He froze. In the muted light of his room, Conrad stared in quiet amazement at the bag of blood sitting innocently on his bed.

~*~ There will be more! Because the chance to write the next chapter will keep me going as I head towards the finals finish line.  
>Please leave reviews!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Conrad woke as the sun went down. Waking up as a vampire was an entirely different experience than waking up as a human. It took longer. He was conscious, but not coherent, at sunset, and the further the sun dipped below the horizon the more aware he became. Conrad usually tried to force himself to awakeness as quickly as he could, but the night after Worth's break-in he shot awake like someone had set off a firecracker next to his ear. Rolling over to the other side of his bed, he took a deep breath to clear the sleep-cobwebs –and calm his panic –and tried to order his scuttled early-morning thoughts.

Remembering that Worth himself had invaded his home –slept on his bed –was not a thought that sat well with Conrad, and sent something akin to horror shooting down his spine. The man was disgusting, crude, foul-tempered, and had no place in the clean orderly confines of Conrad's home. The two thoughts were polar opposite of each other, so putting them together was like trying to picture a penguin in the desert. They just didn't fit with one another.

Finally, Conrad gave up trying to think about it, because it made his head hurt. Besides, someone was yelling in his living room, and he had a good idea who it was.

Stumbling from his room, feeling the effects of sleep-deprivation that somehow sucked _more _because he was a vampire, Conrad entered his living room to find Veser berating the residents of Jersey Shore about their poor skin color choice. He was curled up in his usual spot on the couch, a bag of Doritos perched in his lap, staining his fingers the same orange as the characters on the TV. Conrad only spared a second to think about where he had gotten snack food from, before his OCD and cleanliness issues brought a more pressing need to his attention.

"Get your feet off the couch!" He snapped. The frustration and anger from the night before, dampened somewhat from sleep, came back in full force. "And what did I tell you about food in the living room?" The only response he got was Veser rolling his eyes with a "yeah, yeah" forced through a mouthful of chips. He did take his feet off the couch at least, although that didn't change the fact that there were cheesy chips too close to his furniture. Conrad growled in rage, thinking about how he had _another_ thing to clean.

He was aware that he was in what Worth called 'full bitch mode', but he didn't care. It was his apartment, with his rules, and Veser knew he had to obey them. But by now he seemed to have gotten used to Conrad's ranting –not that he paid much attention in the first place. The damned kid might be able to get away with some things –especially when he employed those big green eyes of his –but by now he should know better to mess with the level of clean in the apartment.

Speaking of clean…Conrad groaned as his anger turned to horror. He had so much to clean. Whether he liked it or not, Worth had been in his apartment, and the whole place still felt sullied. He would have to go to Abner-like lengths just to make the freaking air feel breathable.

Conrad turned back towards his room, already compiling a list of things he would have to clean –carpet, bed sheets, god, _himself, _he was going to have to shower for an hour–when Veser piped up from the couch, "Did the Doc give you the blood?"

Pausing, Conrad turned back to the living room with a shocked "What?" Sticking his head over the back of the couch, Veser repeated his question with deliberate slowness, his sharp teeth showing with his big crocodile grin. "Did the Doc give you the blood?"

It took a moment for Conrad to comprehend fully, but when he did, he snapped, "What the hell do you know about that?" He tried to sound firmed and controlled, but his voice betrayed him. Veser must have picked up on the discomfort in his tone, because his grin grew bigger.

"Chill Connie." He simpered with a soothing air. He was enjoying this, the little bastard. "Doc showed up this morning when I was leaving for class, said he had blood cause he knew you missed your last couple of deliveries. I invited him in, like the good little gentleman I am-" Conrad's disbelieving snort made him grin wider "-and told him you were busy. Then I had to scuttle off to class and Worth said he'd give you the blood." His story finished, Veser's grin turned into a full-out _leer_ as he eyed Conrad. "Thing is, I didn't see a bag on him. So didja _really_ get fed?" he finished with an eyebrow wiggle.

Conrad didn't rise to the bait, keeping his stony glare and crossed arms. The kid may be as big a pervert as Worth, but he didn't know how to push his buttons like the doctor could. Miserably thinking that he was going to try to limit the pair's interactions with one another, he ignored the boy's insinuation altogether, choosing to answer the original question. "Yes, I got the blood. Now go play in the street or find something dangerous to antagonize, I need to clean." Turning back to his room, he heard Veser groan as he heaved himself off the couch and stomped out of the apartment.

Well, at least that explained how Worth got in his apartment. Conrad felt momentary relief that Worth hadn't just broken in, but that was quickly dashed as he did the math. If Veser had left for class at a reasonable time, say, 7:30, then Worth had been in his apartment for _over two hours_! The thought of Worth sleazing around his apartment, behind his back, almost made Conrad retch in horror, and that was before the horrifying idea: 'Oh My God what did he _touch_?"

Conrad dashed to his room and glanced around furiously. Nothing obvious seemed missing, or disturbed, except his bed, which he knew Worth had been on. And so had he.

Earlier that morning, he had stared at that bag on blood sitting on his bed for what seemed like hours, but honestly couldn't have been more than a few minutes. Finally, he reached forward and picked the blood up carefully, like it would burst at any moment. The blood sloshed gently in the bag, and he dimly realized it was really _warm_. Like some scummy doctor had been lying on it for some time. But of course that only occurred to him later, _after_ he bit into the bag and groaned happily as thick, sweet blood flowed into his mouth, stating his hunger. Any reservations about blood-drinking were forgotten as he drank every drop, even ripping the bag open so he could get every last drop. Now full, and still sleepy, he had barely blinked an eye as he kicked off his pants and crawled on top of the covers. Subconsciously he sought out the leftover warmth Worth's body left, and even the sleepy inhale of Worth's smoky scent didn't faze him.

And so he ended up _sleeping_ on top of the area where Worth himself had just occupied. _How could he have done that?_ He couldn't explain it. When he was so tired it hadn't seemed like such a problem, but _now,_ when he was awake and aware, Conrad felt shiver of disgust crawl across his skin. God he felt so _unclean_! First priority, he decided, was to shower like there was going out of style, then he would tackle the apartment.

Veser fumbled with the handle of Conrad's apartment, and sighed in exasperation as he searched in his pocket for the key he'd stolen. Conrad had gotten super paranoid after Abner's last attack, which meant the damn door was always fucking locked. Hopefully it was just the handle lock; the deadbolt and chain weren't accessible from the outside. And he really didn't want to stand in the hallway banging on the door. The neighbors already hated his rotten little guts, and he didn't want to endure their scowls like he usually did. Damnit, he was tired! Was it too much to ask for the rest of the night to be peaceful and quiet, after the maniac couple of hours he had just endured with Hanna? How did one person _always _find a different way to maim himself every night anyway?

Veser sighed with relief when the door opened for him on the first try. Triumphantly entering the apartment, Veser breathed a deep sigh of relief…and immediately started coughing his lungs out. Jesus what had the vampire used to clean, mustard gas? Throat burning and eyes streaming, Veser stumbled over to the window in the kitchen and cranked it open as far as he could. Scrambling through the apartment to throw open the other windows, he didn't find any trace of the stupid vampire. Was it too much to hope he had dissolved himself in bleach?

Apparently it was, because he heard fumbling at the door just when he was finally able to breathe properly again. Rolling his eyes, Veser got to the door as it banged open, revealing the sparkling-clean vampire with a load of laundry. His eyes darted around frantically, his form relaxing somewhat as they finally landed on Veser.

"Oh, it's just you." Conrad sighed in relief. For a moment, scrambling with the door in the hallway, he feared that Worth had found his way into his apartment again. But it was just Veser. A _super pissed_ looking Veser, who's green eyes turned amazingly sharp when he was mad, but still just Veser. Not the damned doctor.

Conrad wasn't sure if he would be able to handle seeing Worth _ever again_, especially after this night. Cleaning the ever-loving fuck out of his apartment led him to the conclusion that Worth's smoky scent, the one he didn't have a problem with just that morning, had permeated every inch of his apartment. And the thought of meeting the owner of that aroma, _again, _after his stupid vampire brain decided to strengthen the connection of Worth Equals Food…no, it wouldn't happen. Hanna and Veser could do blood runs from now on. If he never Worth again, it would be too soon.

"You wanna explain why I almost choked to death in here, _Connie_?" Veser demanded sharply. Conrad arched an eyebrow in confusion as he set the basket of linens down on the counter. Then, slowly, it dawned on him that, oh yeah, he had been cleaning with bleach most of the night. Guiltily, he turned to Veser.

"Sorry. I –heh –guess I didn't notice, what with the not-breathing and all…" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Was it that bad?"

Veser huffed, anger seeping from his frame and turning to fatigue. "Naw, just…open a damn window next time" he grumbled, before sitting on the armrest of the couch. Kicking off his shoes, he leaned backward and tumbled onto the seats, finally able to relax.

Conrad sighed in relief. It looked like he wouldn't have to deal with a Veser temper tantrum. Sometimes that kid was worse than a baby, the way he screamed. Had a worse vocabulary, that's for damn sure. Picking up a sheet from the top of the pile, he quietly started folding as Veser rescued the remote from the depths of the couch cushions. He would bring up his blood-fetching request later, after Veser chilled out a little. Because his mind was made up. He'd rather starve than have Worth in his apartment again.


End file.
